


no way no way (mna mna)

by phanetixs



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, clumsy ytber phil, doctor dan au, minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22101115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanetixs/pseuds/phanetixs
Summary: “Yeah, mate?” Phil asks confusedly, a slightly desperate tone about it. “Do we know each other or summat?”Or, Phil goes to the hospital (again).
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 63





	no way no way (mna mna)

**Author's Note:**

> ok so WWIII was trending and i thought "hm if iran, us and/or their proxies fuck up my region then will i die in peace knowing that i haven't written a doctor au??" (ok no rly i've been in and out of hospital lately and this is basically a rant abt the hard beds they have there)
> 
> i am no medical professional (much to my parents' grief) so don't believe my mumbo jumbo procedure thx.

Phil’s been here...far too many times. The white walls of The Royal London Hospital are _definitely_ mocking him as he slowly makes his way down the emergency corridor, clutching his right elbow.

This wasn’t his fault, _ok._ Contrary to popular (Mum, Martyn, Cornelia, every person he’s spoken to within the last ten calendar years) belief, he can go awhile without an accident. It just… hasn’t happened since he’s moved to London, is all. London is a big place with millions of people; the odds of him bumping into someone and tripping over their briefcase is high-ish. Like one in five thousand, maybe. 

_Anyway_ , the point is: accidents happen. Frequently, in Phil’s case - and he likes to make money off talking about those events on the Internet. People are sadists, as it turns out, and he does decently well with those videos. 

“Hi. Um.” Phil says when he approaches the desk.

“You dying or something?” the nurse asks, obnoxiously chewing a piece of gum. To be fair, he _is_ in Emergency, but who knows - his elbow might be bleeding! Ligaments shifting! Bad things! 

Phil fake-smiles. “No, but I need someone to check my elbow, please? I’ve been here before. I’m Phil Lester.”

The nurse guffaws. “ _You’re_ Phil? Us nurses have a bet on how soon you come in after your last visit. It’s been,” she clickity-clacks her keyboard, “five weeks. Just lost out on a tenner, mate.”

Phil winces. “What was your bet?”

“Less than a month,” she says, unimpressed.

Well ok, sorry for not getting injured sooner, Phil thinks. Instead of that, he opts for a placating smile. “Maybe next time, then. Is there a doctor available, uh, now?”

She looks at him like he’s a dumbass. He’s in a hospital swarming with pretentious white coats and a strong stench of coffee - there’s always a doctor around. At least now he has more awkward content to augment a future video, Phil thinks miserably. “Right yeah. I’ll just wait then?”

She looks down and types something. “Bed 13.”

“Bed 13. Yeah. Thanks.”

She smiles then, a small quirk of lips. Phil’s vengeful enough not to tell her that a glob of lipstick is smudged. “See you in a month, babe.”

-

Bed 13 is more aptly a 5x5ft wooden plank with a small pillow. He should be used to this by now, given the cumulative number of hours he’s spent uncomfortably shifting on a hospital bed with a broken foot, a bruised eye, a suspected broken hip from plopping on his office chair too hard, and other miscellaneous events. 

Maybe he should switch hospitals next time, god knows the nurses here need any more ammunition to make a fool out of him. (Maybe he should be more careful, too, but that’s neither here nor there, really.)

The curtain around him shifts. He’s expecting to see Dr Nisa, maybe, or hunky Dr Wick - who, Phil’s sure, _adoringly_ gazed at him while popping his elbow back into place the last time. Pure romanticism that is. As Phil’s entertaining thoughts of a future doctor wedding, he is fully surprised to come face-to-face with another man. One with curly hair and freckles, his legs long enough to wrap around Phil’s neck sometime. 

See, the thing is, Phil is the gayest of gays. Extremely proud of it too. He just appreciates the male form, among other things, and likes to think that it likes him too. Sometimes. And mostly on Grindr. This man, though, is pure beauty. Like a lanky Adonis with puffy lips. Lips that are...saying things.

“Oh shit!” Phil says, flailing his arms and hitting his poor injured elbow on the bed railing. “Yikes. Sorry.”

The doctor laughs, and there’s a crescent-shaped dimple - what the fuck!! 

“Why are you apologising for _your_ injury, Phil?” the doctor asks amused, entirely comfortable with saying his name. Phil shrugs it off because the man probably read his file, or was in on the bets with the nurses probably. Big yikes. 

“No, I mean. Sorry, like, for being all clumsy. Probably what got me into this mess anyway.” Phil says, self-deprecatingly. “What were you saying earlier?”

“I’m Dan, uh. Dan Howell?” he says slowly like he’s trying to jog a memory. Oh fuck, did his elbow give him amnesia and he forgot this man? What if they’re soulmates who have a flat and a fish together?? What then??

“Yeah, mate?” Phil asks confusedly, a slightly desperate tone about it. “Do we know each other or summat?”

Doctor Dan blushes this light fuschia that does wonders on his cheeks. He fiddles with his fingers - his long, pretty fingers - and looks a bit torn. “We met at this creator thing? Around 2009?” 

Phil pauses. 2009 was when he was just out of uni and was still trying this weird video platform out. He still had a long fringe, lord, what strange times. But, Dan, though - Phil would have remembered meeting him, right? Seeing those brown eyes, shaking that pale hand that now comes to hover around his injured elbow. He can’t place the memory.

“Sorry,” Phil says, wincing from his words and also from the soft pressure on his sore bruise. Dan shrugs, straightening his arm and bending it a few times. “S’alright. Uhm. Mobility in your arm seems fine. Did you fall on your head?”

Phil’s words trip over themselves, “I just. I feel like I must’ve? If I don’t remember a face like yours.” Cheesy as all hell, but this might just be the fittest guy he’s ever met, and if there’s a chance to possibly meet him _more_ times, he has to take it.

Dan blushes again. “It was a decade ago, Phil. And I looked different,” Dan snorts, “long hair and a plaid shirt you desperately wanted on the floor.” Dan peeks up from under his eyelashes with a smirk.

“We…” Phil gestures to them both, “ _fucked_?” He’s still not used to swearing in front of new people, always thinking to keep up a persona, and the word jarringly stumbles out. 

Dan’s fingers on Phil’s forearm clench. Oh, _oh_ \- Phil remembers that. 2009, his first big event. A pretty boy at the fountain, strong hands clenched on his hips, then around the bedpost of his bed. They fucked, to put it crudely, a few times over the course of that night.

“Yeah,” Dan simply says. “Ok, so, where on your head did you fall? Do you feel dizzy, like you need to barf?”

Phil gasps, more memories returning. “No and no. Wait, you were making videos too, right? Danisfire - or something like that?” 

“Not anymore,” Dan replies, “but yeah, I was danis _noton_ fire for some period of my life. To be honest, I’m surprised you remember. We were pretty wasted that night. Too many cheeky shots.”

Yeah, PJ kept supplying them with tequila and they snuck out early because the other YouTubers didn’t seem to do anything that had any semblance of fun at all. Then, conversations under the moonlight and wandering hands. 

“It was a great night,” Phil says honestly. Because it _was_ , inadvertently magical, and Dan left in the morning when Phil was showering and that was that.

“Hm,” Dan just says. “Ok so, real doctor talk. How injured are you here? 1 being like brushed against a wall painful to 10 being like hit by a monster truck.”

Phil thinks. “Maybe a 6, I guess. Falling over a briefcase and simultaneously forgetting your best one-night stand painful.”

Dan smiles. “And how many have you had since then?”

“One night stands?” Dan nods. “A few,” Phil says sheepishly. “Who knew that coming out in a video would get you a bunch of random numbers on napkins? It’s been fun.”

Dan applies some kind of ointment to his elbow, swabbing the wound. It stings a bit and Dan apologises. “Yeah, I remember that. Around the time I met you, in fact, I went around shagging left and right - uh.” He seems to remember who he’s talking to. “Whoops, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Phil laughs. “Hope the experiment went well, then. I don’t remember the exact details but I remember a bed rocking and my flatmate saying that I must have slept with a wolf to have gotten _that_ many bites on my neck.”

“Pretty sure _you_ kept baring your neck like that. Who am I - a lonely wolf - to deny?”

Phil laughs. “Howl-ell.”

Dan seems to dig into his elbow deeper in retaliation. Phil grips Dan’s hand. “Ok. Ow. Sorry. Anyway, what’ve you been up to since then? Other than Medical School. Yep, I am virtually capitalising that in my head because that’s the scariest thing ever.”

Dan shrugs, “Nothing much. Got depressed. I stopped making videos. Still was depressed. Eventually went to scary med school because some _one_ told me a few years earlier I was good enough for anything.” He says that last bit pointedly, and Phil’s memories are still fuzzy around the edges but remembers a long conversation before...the sex. “You talkin’ bout me?” he asks.

“You were the one -” Dan catches himself, leans closer to put the sling around Phil’s other shoulder. 

Phil squirms at the proximity, trying his best not to take a very obvious sniff - which he does, and hm, strawberry and warmth. He likes. “Yeah?”

Dan lets out a small laugh. “You were the one who gave me that _push,_ you know. I was never really good at school, but I _loved_ Science. Biology and all. I never really considered it because, as you said, uni was Big and Scary. It was easier to watch videos online and occasionally post because it distracted me from the big stuff, y’know. Anyway. I’d been watching you for awhile - we met at this dingy back alley looking for the fountain and it just. Clicked. It was easy to talk to you.”

Phil agrees. It’s still easy to talk to him now. 

Dan says, “You were talking to me about how you just wanted to stay in school and not face life and I told you about how I was scared _to go_ to school. And you just. You were really helpful, is all.” 

There’s obviously more to it, but Phil doesn’t push. He’s a bit stunned at how transformative this conversation was to Dan when Phil can barely remember half of it. He feels, above all, _guilty_. That he let this beautiful boy go in the first place, and didn’t even think to ask for his number or another day together.

The bandage is done, his elbow all secure. If it was anyone else (except maybe Dr Wick) he would be rushing to leave in embarrassment but. “I’m glad we met. I don’t remember what I said, but if it made you go to medical school and become the great doctor that you are - I’m really happy for you. But, I will never stop feeling upset that I let you go.”

Dan’s eyes widen. “I left. I just - you were my favourite YouTuber. The fact that you gave me not only a great night but an _epiphany,_ too, was a bit much to handle I think. You were...are... very intimidating in the daytime, pal.”

Phil laughs, a pang in his heart. “I highly doubt that. I fall over cats and dogs and briefcases, apparently, in broad daylight. How brawny of me!” Dan laughs. “But seriously, though -” Phil says, catching Dan’s hand, “would you ever consider? Uh. Letting me intimidate you in the daytime?” That came out wrong. “A _date_! Not that - I would _never_ hurt you. Or intimidate you. Unless you’re into that! Kink-wise.” Fuck ok.

Dan full-on guffaws now, flushing down his neck, and Phil wants to litter _him_ with bites. He might’ve had a chance, with the proclamation of intent thing, but not after that _whole_ mess. Plus, Dan’s probably busy with doctor stuff and fixing up other clumsy YouTubers with big mouths. Though, that’s probably a fat list of one.

He misses what Dan says next. He really doesn’t want to seem rude so he plays along. It’s probably a rejection anyway. “Hm, ok no worries,” Phil says, a bit dejectedly.

“No worries?” Dan asks slowly. 

“Yeah? It’s ok if you’re busy or anything, this was a longshot anyway.”

Dan smacks him across the head. Which is _definitely_ bad etiquette for a doctor who ten minutes ago thought he had a concussion. “Ow!” 

“What the fuck! Don’t _no worries_ me when I apologise for leaving you ten years ago, you turd! And ask you for your number to have that date!” Dan whisper-shouts. Phil suddenly remembers their soap opera of a story is playing out in a _hospital_ , of all places. Phil found his long-lost (ish) love in a _hospital_. That’d honestly make a great video.

“ _Philll_ ,” Dan whines. Phil quite likes that. He wants to make him sound like that in bed.

“Yes, darling?” He says, teasing.

“Do you want to go out? Soon?”

Phil laughs. Yeah, who knew stumbling his way across London would lead him to this? Now he’d gladly have one last fall: for this man.

-

Phil ends up breaking two more bones. His nose when he smushes it too hard into the plank-like Bed 13 on their anniversary and off-shift Dan’s eating him out, and his toe when Dan accidentally steps on it as he jumps up and down with his new ring.

The nurses still laugh when Phil passes by.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed and happy new year!! my resolution for 2020 (and 2019, 2018, all other applicable years) is to write more so i'll try my best. you can find me on my rather inactive twitter/tumblr @phanetixs. see you! donald, nuclear war sucks bro - don't try it!


End file.
